I dont do shit to be cool, or interesting. I am me. I do things on whim. I fear parties because I hate to talk to people, but there are times when you dont see that fear. I can hide it well, and other times I cant, you notice it. I'm awkward. Socially estranged if you will. I'm no longer afraid of what I look like, knowing that being beautiful and pretty and what not is also based on attitude, and if you feel shy, exposed, people notice that, and see you as such. I dont walk around flaunting what I got, I dont need to, my attitude speaks for itself. For me a messy hair do, some jeans and a shirt is enough for me. I also dont need to act different.
I used to be afraid to make friends. I would have thoughts "oh god what I come here and everyone hates me, how do I made friends?" I learned through reflection that some people are drawn to you. Magnetic so to speak. I have a personality that draws people, I can make people laugh, I'm witty, and sometimes just down right retarded. I never had problems making friends when I was young, and even now as an adult I don't.
I have lived with social anxiety disorder since as long as I can remember. I think it came from girls in middle school taunting me, calling me ugly, pushing me, things that girls do. It was damaging. I thought all people were like that. I stuck to the friends who I had known since I was young, afraid to reach out. Even when the bullying got to the point where my mom was about to pull from the school, I began to wonder "how will I make friends, how will I do anything?" I refused and took the abuse. Junior High came and I found new friends, always with the new day of school fear, but mine was to the point of an anxiety attack. I developed Trichotillomania that year, a coping mechanisim to deal with stress. I'd pull out my hair. Eventually I had a noticeable bald spot. I was ashamed of my disorder and had permission to wear a bandanna to school to hide it. It was a target. I was a target. People would pull it off, make fun of me. I cried, no one understood what I was going through. I had no self esteem at this point, and I felt lower than the dirt itself. One day I retaliated. Some girl pulled off my bandanna and I turned around and went into a rage, screaming and cussing. It never happened again.
High school came. I was a freshman. I was scared out of my mind, new people, older people, people who would be mean, who would talk about me behind my back, laugh at me. It was no surprise that I fell into the goth crowd. Hot topic kids. I was always one to wear black since I was in Junior High. People left me alone, I liked it. But then came that stigma that we were losers, shit heads, devil worshipers. I went in the pagan aspect, scaring more people away. I felt safe. Around this time my mom had just found out my dad was cheating on my mom. They fought a lot. I put everything inside, and became depressed. Self mutilation seemed like a good idea. Cutting was a ritual. Things went bad, I cut. No one knew and it continued for a year, until my mom saw me. I was withdrawn from school and put into an outpatient program then enrolled into an alternative school. These people were like me, and it was ok. Eventually my senior year I wound up cussing out the "principal" and left, and enrolled back into my old school. For once people missed me. Liked me. It was all ok. I graduated and I was free of hell.
As I got older, went to college, got kicked out, I learned I was still afraid, but not so much that it crippled me. Then I joined the Army. I have no idea what made me do this. Maybe it was the change, the challenge. I was told I would fail, and that only pushed me. Ruck marches 8 miles in, I felt like giving up I told myself, NO I WONT BE THAT GIRL WHO FUCKED UP AND GOT HELD BACK. I soldiered on. I never cried when a Drill Sergeant got in my face, I never cried when I was punished for others fuck ups. I manned up and took it with no questions.
I loved the army, the structure. It was meant for me. I never felt so proud to stand out there knowing I graduated, to be handed my packet and told good job. I cried. Every time I heard the Army Song, or the National Anthem, I would get teary eyed. I was happy. I never thought I would see that day. I was shipped off to AIT excited about my training. I hoped it would help my anxiety. Infact I was damn good at it. Only thing was I would break down after interrogating. I was scared.
I learned after all my injuries, my breakdowns and attempts to put myself in medicated comas in the army that my fears of people are irrational. It took 23 long years to figure out that not everyone in this world will like you. THat people will be jealous of you, your talents, your looks, or what you have, and that hatred is the best tool to use when you bring a person down. I learned how powerful words were in the Army, I learned how to use them as my weapon. I still get those irrational thoughts, but I beat them down. I know better.
Words are like a slow poison. People strike with them haphazardly hoping to strike a blow, at first it hurts, leaves a wound, but the poison slips in, and eats away at you. You begin to wonder "Is that true? Is my nose too big? Are my tattoos stupid?" And to people who say they dont care what people say, look at yourself. Do you say that as a reassurance to yourself, or do you mean it?
I remember there was this pregnant girl in my Platoon. She was a straight up whore. She comes up to my friend, infront of everyone and tells her "I fucking hate you, ugly bitch" My friend, who at the time was trying to calm me down an anxiety attack just smiled and responded with "I wasnt even looking, or talking to you, but I'll play your game. Least I can keep my legs closed" and the girl? "least I can get laid" and then, all of a sudden I popped up. "With all that hate you have inside you, I hope your baby looks like Sloth from the Goonies." She shut up fast. I didnt feel bad. I say some fucked up shit. That's when I learned that people talk shit, but never can do anything to back it up. I stopped caring. I asked myself. Would I see these people ever again? Fuck no.
I think thats why I became so hateful, bitter and mean now. But I have learned a lesson. My fears are irrational, still there I keep them at bay. But really? Fuck what people say, their just sad unhappy people who have nothing else better than to be assholes.
I dont know why I wrote this...it was on my mind...
Night SG
I used to be afraid to make friends. I would have thoughts "oh god what I come here and everyone hates me, how do I made friends?" I learned through reflection that some people are drawn to you. Magnetic so to speak. I have a personality that draws people, I can make people laugh, I'm witty, and sometimes just down right retarded. I never had problems making friends when I was young, and even now as an adult I don't.
I have lived with social anxiety disorder since as long as I can remember. I think it came from girls in middle school taunting me, calling me ugly, pushing me, things that girls do. It was damaging. I thought all people were like that. I stuck to the friends who I had known since I was young, afraid to reach out. Even when the bullying got to the point where my mom was about to pull from the school, I began to wonder "how will I make friends, how will I do anything?" I refused and took the abuse. Junior High came and I found new friends, always with the new day of school fear, but mine was to the point of an anxiety attack. I developed Trichotillomania that year, a coping mechanisim to deal with stress. I'd pull out my hair. Eventually I had a noticeable bald spot. I was ashamed of my disorder and had permission to wear a bandanna to school to hide it. It was a target. I was a target. People would pull it off, make fun of me. I cried, no one understood what I was going through. I had no self esteem at this point, and I felt lower than the dirt itself. One day I retaliated. Some girl pulled off my bandanna and I turned around and went into a rage, screaming and cussing. It never happened again.
High school came. I was a freshman. I was scared out of my mind, new people, older people, people who would be mean, who would talk about me behind my back, laugh at me. It was no surprise that I fell into the goth crowd. Hot topic kids. I was always one to wear black since I was in Junior High. People left me alone, I liked it. But then came that stigma that we were losers, shit heads, devil worshipers. I went in the pagan aspect, scaring more people away. I felt safe. Around this time my mom had just found out my dad was cheating on my mom. They fought a lot. I put everything inside, and became depressed. Self mutilation seemed like a good idea. Cutting was a ritual. Things went bad, I cut. No one knew and it continued for a year, until my mom saw me. I was withdrawn from school and put into an outpatient program then enrolled into an alternative school. These people were like me, and it was ok. Eventually my senior year I wound up cussing out the "principal" and left, and enrolled back into my old school. For once people missed me. Liked me. It was all ok. I graduated and I was free of hell.
As I got older, went to college, got kicked out, I learned I was still afraid, but not so much that it crippled me. Then I joined the Army. I have no idea what made me do this. Maybe it was the change, the challenge. I was told I would fail, and that only pushed me. Ruck marches 8 miles in, I felt like giving up I told myself, NO I WONT BE THAT GIRL WHO FUCKED UP AND GOT HELD BACK. I soldiered on. I never cried when a Drill Sergeant got in my face, I never cried when I was punished for others fuck ups. I manned up and took it with no questions.
I loved the army, the structure. It was meant for me. I never felt so proud to stand out there knowing I graduated, to be handed my packet and told good job. I cried. Every time I heard the Army Song, or the National Anthem, I would get teary eyed. I was happy. I never thought I would see that day. I was shipped off to AIT excited about my training. I hoped it would help my anxiety. Infact I was damn good at it. Only thing was I would break down after interrogating. I was scared.
I learned after all my injuries, my breakdowns and attempts to put myself in medicated comas in the army that my fears of people are irrational. It took 23 long years to figure out that not everyone in this world will like you. THat people will be jealous of you, your talents, your looks, or what you have, and that hatred is the best tool to use when you bring a person down. I learned how powerful words were in the Army, I learned how to use them as my weapon. I still get those irrational thoughts, but I beat them down. I know better.
Words are like a slow poison. People strike with them haphazardly hoping to strike a blow, at first it hurts, leaves a wound, but the poison slips in, and eats away at you. You begin to wonder "Is that true? Is my nose too big? Are my tattoos stupid?" And to people who say they dont care what people say, look at yourself. Do you say that as a reassurance to yourself, or do you mean it?
I remember there was this pregnant girl in my Platoon. She was a straight up whore. She comes up to my friend, infront of everyone and tells her "I fucking hate you, ugly bitch" My friend, who at the time was trying to calm me down an anxiety attack just smiled and responded with "I wasnt even looking, or talking to you, but I'll play your game. Least I can keep my legs closed" and the girl? "least I can get laid" and then, all of a sudden I popped up. "With all that hate you have inside you, I hope your baby looks like Sloth from the Goonies." She shut up fast. I didnt feel bad. I say some fucked up shit. That's when I learned that people talk shit, but never can do anything to back it up. I stopped caring. I asked myself. Would I see these people ever again? Fuck no.
I think thats why I became so hateful, bitter and mean now. But I have learned a lesson. My fears are irrational, still there I keep them at bay. But really? Fuck what people say, their just sad unhappy people who have nothing else better than to be assholes.
I dont know why I wrote this...it was on my mind...
Night SG
godfather:
I am glad you wroe this. Thank you very much for the revelations., You are so worth knowing.